


Broken

by SSA_SarahSunshine



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beating, Bisexual Derek Morgan, Blood, Established Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hospitals, Hurt Derek Morgan, Hurt Spencer Reid, M/M, Spencer Reid Whump, Stabbing, Temporary Character Death, Unsub | Unknown Subject, Violence, idk what else to tag, knife, mild gore sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSA_SarahSunshine/pseuds/SSA_SarahSunshine
Summary: Derek Morgan is a very strong and capable agent. He can handle anything life throws at him.But can he handle watching the love of his life being hurt right in front of him?---A Spencer Reid whump with a hurt Derek Morgan.
Relationships: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is slightly rushed, and I'm sorry for that, it's just that I can't really think of a good way to wrap this up without it turning into another 10k fic. TBH I almost ended it at a certain part (I'm sure you'll all see what I mean), but I can't stand unhappy endings, so I needed to make it okay again. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He could handle anything  _ He _ did to him. He had been beaten black and blue before, blown up, shot at, and stabbed. He could handle it. He survived in the past, and he’ll survive this, too. 

So, being thrown to the ground so hard that his head bounced off the concrete, the air being forced from his lungs as a steel-toed boot slammed into his stomach, he convinces himself that he’ll be okay. Because he can handle it. He was Derek fucking Morgan. A respected and hard-working FBI agent, for crying out loud. He could handle it.

However, what he couldn’t handle was being handcuffed to a metal pipe that jutted from the cold wall. What he couldn’t handle was the submissive partner grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look up as the dominant partner walked into the room with someone else in his arms, their thin figure fighting hard against his firm grip. What he couldn’t handle was the look of fear that flashed behind Spencer Reid’s eyes when he finally noticed the bruises and the blood that had marred his lover’s face. 

“What-?” He choked, coughing as the vile taste of pennies slipped down his throat. He yanked against the handcuffs, the sharp metal digging into his wrists in a numbing sort of burn. How did they get to Spencer? He was supposed to be back at the hotel!

“Derek!” Spencer’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red and cheeks tear-streaked. Damien, the dominant partner, threw Spencer to the floor, the lanky doctor’s knees cracking against the cement. He gasped silently, cursing, before reaching for Derek in an attempt to crawl to him. Damien’s boot came down on Spencer’s wrist, pinning him to the ground with a yelp. He squatted, his elbows on his knees as a hand softly gripped Spencer’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Huh. Guess you are a  _ pretty boy _ ,” he said with a click of his tongue and a twisted grin. “I’m sure I can change that.”

Derek growled, yanking against the handcuffs again. He could feel the bite of the metal as it threatened to break his skin. “Leave him alone! You wanted me, remember? This whole thing was for me, right? So let him go, and take out your anger on me, like you wanted!” He didn’t know where the burst of energy came from, but he wouldn’t let it go now that he had it. He needed to keep Damien’s attention on him.

Damien rolled his eyes, dropping Spencer’s chin with force before gripping his hair, forcing his head back. Spencer swallowed, closing his eyes tightly to try and mask his emotions. Damien tugged at his roots, gazing over the pale expanse of Spencer’s gorgeous neck. His grin was wicked as he noticed a small hickey hiding under the collar of the genius’s sweater. 

“You know,” he started, his other hand going to yank the sweater aside so he could get a better look, “I’ve been watching you for a while, Derek Morgan. The day you murdered my father was the day I knew I would get revenge for him. At first, I thought about just killing you.” He stood up, releasing Spencer’s wrist just long enough to kick him over, then slam his foot right into Spencer’s stomach, making him gasp sharply and curl into himself. Derek shouted, “No! I said leave him alone!” He was fuming. His wrists were starting to bleed. 

“But then I thought, why not take someone you love so dear away from you? Then we’d be even.” Damien’s shoe connected with Spencer’s face, a sickening crack echoing in the concrete room as Spencer screamed out. Derek screamed too, his body protesting to how hard he was pulling against the pipe. 

Damien’s partner, Justin, was standing off to the side, wincing as he watched Damien kick Spencer again and again, aiming for his stomach and chest. 

Derek felt his tears, hot, unrelenting, as they flowed freely down his cheeks to the sounds of Spencer’s agony. His pain. He kept yelling at Damien, begging, pleading, asking him to _ “Please just stop- you’re going to kill him.”  _ But he didn’t relent. 

Derek could handle a beating. He could handle a knife stabbing through his stomach, a bullet to the shoulder, an explosion at his back. He could handle acid on his skin. He could handle the pain because he was strong and capable—a survivor. 

But he couldn’t handle watching the love of his life being tortured before his very eyes. His heart was hammering against his chest, breaking with every shout that left Spencer’s bloodied lips. His lungs hitched as he choked on his sobs, his shoulders quivering with every ragged breath he took.

Damien eventually paused, crouching down, lifting Spencer’s head by his hair, the young agent wincing with blood and tears and snot dripping down his chin and splattering to the floor. Damien’s eyes scanned the damage done, watching Spencer’s uneven breathing, his gasps for air. He listened to Derek’s incoherent rambling behind him.  _ “Please, please, please, please-” _

“Oh, shut up,” Damien finally said as he dropped Spencer’s head, the genius’s forehead connecting with the concrete with a loud smack. He curled into himself, wheezing, his eyes closed tightly. His sobs were more like hiccups; each exhale misting the floor with droplets and bubbles of bright red. 

Derek was shaking, his hands utterly numb as blood pooled down his arms and dripped off his elbows. He would severe them entirely if it meant getting to Spencer and holding him. His lungs felt heavy as he gasped between sobs, his eyes glued to Spencer’s trembling figure. There was so much blood. “Spence- Spence, please look at me,” he begged silently, his vision blurred at the edges as more tears welled in his eyes. Spencer didn’t look, didn’t even move.

Damien stood up, looking down at his handiwork with a tilt of his head. He hummed, turning and walking to Derek. With a sinister chuckle, he grabbed Derek’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes, “I have a knife. I was wondering if I should just put him out of his misery now, or if I should let you watch him bleed to death?”

Derek narrowed his eyes, yanking his chin from Damien’s grip, “You’re sick! You won’t get away with this! I’m going to-”

“To what? Arrest me? You’re not really in a position to do that, agent,” Damien spat, glowering. He pulled out his knife, flipping it over in his hand once, twice, three times. He grinned again, “Maybe I’ll stab him anyways. Then make you watch him bleed to death. A win-win for me.”

Derek swallowed, all of the fight leaving him as his shoulders sagged. He was so tired. “Please, don’t. I’d rather you kill me. Just leave him alone. Please.” Justin just shifted from one foot to the other before looking at Damien, waiting for his decision. 

Damien glared at Derek, “You don’t get to beg. You didn’t give my father that chance, now did you?”

“Your father was a murderer!” Derek shouted as Damien walked back towards Spencer, the knife poised in his hand. Derek felt his shoulder aching as he pulled against his cuffs again, “He had a gun to the girl’s head! I took that shot to save her!” He didn’t know why he was trying to explain himself; it wouldn’t make a difference. Because the cold indifference in Damien’s eyes told him that he didn’t care. Like father, like son. 

Damien didn’t even hesitate to kick Spencer over onto his back, pushing the man’s arms away before plunging the knife into his stomach and twisting. The mangled scream that rang out in the room could have been Spencer’s-- it could have been Derek’s-- either way, it was an agonizing sound that reverberated through Derek’s body, ripping his heart in two.

Spencer coughed, blood pooling behind his lips and dribbling down the sides of his mouth, dripping off his chin. His eyes closed.

Derek was screaming, “Spencer!” His shoulder popped from its socket as the pipe burst from the wall with the force he yanked against it. Justin fell backward into the wall from alarm, his eyes wide with fear, “Damien!” But Damien only grinned, taking a step back to see what Derek might try to do next. He still had the handcuffs on both wrists behind his back. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

Derek collapsed to his knees beside Spencer, cursing that he couldn’t hold him. He dropped his forehead against his beloved’s, tears sliding down his face, “Spencer-- Spencer, come on. Open your eyes, please. Spencer, look at me-- look at me.” He could smell the metallic scent of death and blood with every breathy wheeze that came from his partner’s opened mouth. He could hear the way Spencer’s lungs were filling with fluid, how he sounded like he was drowning in his own blood.

Derek snarled, looking up to see a retreating Damien and Justin, the two rushing up the stairs, a bloody knife in Damien’s grasp. He shouted after them, “Damien! You’ll pay for this! I’ll kill you myself!”

A soft whimper broke his attention, and he looked down, seeing Spencer’s gorgeous face contort in pain, another cough racking through his whole body. He shushed him, pressing their foreheads together again, “Shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” his voice cracked. He swallowed thickly, watching as Spencer tried to open his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering with drops of tears dotting them. He pressed a kiss to Spencer’s nose, “Just, just stay with me, okay? I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

“‘Sokay,” Spencer whispered. His voice sounded like he was speaking underwater. It made Derek sob, shaking his head, “No, no, it’s not okay. Spencer, please, just stay with me. Talk to me, okay?”

Spencer was quiet, aside from the gentle wheeze that came in uneven breaths, his chest rising and falling in small tremors. Derek bit his lip. He was about to watch his beloved die. He couldn’t handle that. “Spence? Talk to me, please,” he whispered, pleaded, his lips brushing against Spencer’s forehead, tasting of blood and sweat. He just wanted to hold him. “Please.”

“Der,” Spencer inhaled sharply, his face twisting up as he tried not to cough. Derek pushed his body closer to him, “Yeah? What’s up, baby?”

“I just…” Spencer’s breathing was slowing down. Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry. When Spencer spoke again, his voice was so quiet, so far away, Derek wasn’t sure that he even heard him. But he did, and it made him break down, his forehead falling to Spencer’s chest as he willed life back into his love, his partner, his soulmate. He sobbed, his face pressing into the blood that was supposed to be inside of Spencer, pumping through his veins, keeping him alive. But now it was spilled from his wound, drenching the floor in a brilliant deep red. And then Spencer was gone.

_ “I love you.” _

~~~~~

Rossi slammed the door open, followed by two SWAT team members and Hotch, a flashlight and his gun in hand. He shone the light around the darkened basement before it landed on the crouched figure of Morgan, his body bloodied and shaking. “Hotch!”

Hotch hurried down the steps, landing on his knees beside Morgan and Reid, his eyes wide and looking over the two of them frantically. “Morgan,” he spoke sternly, forcing his agent to look at him, “Reid?”

The tears streaming down Morgan’s face was all he needed to see before he looked over his shoulder, screaming, “Medic! We need a damn medic!” Rossi dropped behind Morgan, unlatching the handcuffs from his bloody wrists. The moment he was free of his metal prison he threw his arms over Reid, pulling him into his lap and sobbing. 

Rossi had to wrap his arms around Morgan’s middle, holding him still when the medics came down. Morgan had no fight left in him, watching with weary eyes as they loaded Reid onto a stretcher, their voices background noise to the roaring of his thoughts.  _ I failed. I failed Spencer. I lost him. What am I going to do now? _

“There’s a pulse!”

“It’s thready, if best.”

“Call ahead and let them know to prep for an emergency surgery.” 

Did he hear right? Morgan’s head shot up as he watched the paramedics carry Reid away, Rossi still holding him and shushing him from behind. He yanked himself away, standing to his shaking legs, “Did they- he’s alive?”

“Barely,” Hotch said as he grabbed Morgan by the arm, leading him up the stairs, “Get in that ambulance, Morgan. And let them check you over too. We’ll meet you at the hospital.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. One that Morgan was not going to argue with.

Once loaded into the ambulance, a more common occurrence than Derek would ever want to admit, he grasped at Spencer’s hand with his good arm, ignoring the blood that stained his skin. He watched the medics work, hooking up wires and tubes to his partner’s body, an oxygen mask going over his face. One of them began working on the knife wound immediately, covering it with gauze to stop the bleeding. They began talking about numbers, BP, heart-rate, things that Derek zoned out. 

He was too busy looking at Spencer’s face, trying to remember what it looked like behind the bruises and the blood. Under the pain was the most beautiful man he had ever met, whose eyes were the brightest shade of brown, glittering in the sunlight like gold. Whose nose would scrunch up adorably when he was being teased. Whose tongue would poke out and run along his bottom lip when he was thinking intently, his eyes scanning over files and files of casework. Beyond the broken man that was before him now was his true love.

He couldn’t lose him.  _ He couldn’t handle that. _

Arriving at the hospital was chaos. Derek fought hard to follow Spencer into the emergency room, but eventually collapsed in Hotch’s arms as he watched them wheel his soulmate away. What if Spencer died on the table? What if he never got to see him again? What if he never got to hold him at three in the morning, tangled up in each other’s limbs, planting soft kisses on exposed skin, ever again? 

He couldn’t handle that. 

Six agonizing hours later, with Derek’s wrists stitched and wrapped up nicely, his shoulder popped back into place, his cuts and bruises treated, a doctor finally walked into his room, a clipboard in hand. “Derek Morgan?”

“Yes?” He glanced up at her, his eyes and body heavy. He was exhausted. 

“Dr. Reid is out of surgery,” she smiled, “and he’s been put into a room. He’s going to be okay. He’s a fighter, they told me. And seeing here,” she glanced down at her chart, “since you’re his medical proxy, you can go see him now.”

Derek didn’t have to be told twice, his feet carrying him straight to Spencer’s room. 

The sight of him lying there, his eyes closed, an oxygen mask covering his face with wires and tubes attached to his body, was enough to make the tears start again. Derek sat down tentatively in the chair beside the bed, taking Spencer’s hand in his own. He squeezed it, gasping as his emotions came crashing down. 

Spencer was here, alive, and right in front of him. Broken, but alive. 

A soft whimper brought his attention to Spencer’s face, his hand going to brush some of the wild curls from his love’s forehead. “Mm here,” he murmured, “I’m right here, baby.” Spencer seemed to settle then, the lines and creases by his eyes smoothing out. His body relaxed under Derek’s gentle touch.

“I’m always going to be right here,” he continued, whispering. “I love you too.”

_ And I’m never going to let anything happen to you ever again.  _


End file.
